Seleya Hills 90210
by V'Kotik
Summary: A comedy look at the time after the decomission of NX-01 Enterprise in the early years of the Federation
1. Azzurro

**Episode 1: Azurro**

_Authors Notes:_

__The credit for the title goes to **Kevin Thomas Riley**, who coined the phrase, when we were jokingly discussing the concept of a Vulcan soap opera/sitcom in the TriS forum. It started out as a series of short stories in various word prompt threads – those will reappear in longer form as chapters here.

This universe is deliberately wacky and is mainly meant for comic relief. Characters are more than occasionally acting out of such, so be warned if thou art a canon zealot. Several casualties of the show are still alive and there are some unusual pairings.

I've nicked Shran's name from** Rigil Kents** fantastic Endeavour series.

X X X

_Captain's log, USS Enterprise, January 28th 2166._

_Fifteen years of space travel are coming to an end. We have arrived in orbit around Andoria to pick up an old friend, who has been appointed to the post of Andorian ambassador to Earth. Delivering him and his wife to Earth will be Enterprise's final journey, before the faithful old girl will be turned into a museum. Most of the crew, especially the veterans, will stay planet side after her decommission. Starfleet isn't happy about it, but had they managed to promote some of us more than once in fifteen years, things might have turned out differently. Years of war with the Romulans and other species taking pot-shots at us has dampened the enthusiasm, too. We are lucky that almost all of the remaining original crew members survived the war. Even though Trip managed to get the engines to warp 6 over the years, now that warp 7 is the norm, good old Enterprise is getting long in the tooth and it's time to say goodbye._

X X X

"Welcome aboard Shran and nice to see you again, too, Amanda."

"It's a pleasure to see you well, pink-skin."

"So, did he convince you to take his name, yet?" Archer teased Shran's wife.

"No way," she answered with a smirk. "Amanda Cole_-_th'Zoarhi – nobody would be able to pronounce that without breaking his tongue."

Turning to lead the way, Archer was left with no time to brace for impact, before he ended up on the floor. Henry, his son, who had just knocked him over, looked at him in shock.

Under the amused scrutiny of Shran and Amanda, Archer scrambled to to his feet and looked sternly into the eyes of his offspring, who was joined by an out-of-breath girl of the same age.

"Henry, T'Mir," Archer started. "What did we tell you about chasing each other around the ship?"

"You prohibited it, uncle Jon," T'Mir answered, looking at her feet with a guilty pout.

"Exactly; and you can see why. Henry, go to your mother and tell her what you did. T'Mir, you'll go with him. She'll decide on a suitable punishment."

"That means extra meditation, again," Henry mumbled to T'Mir dejectedly, took her by the hand and the two children trundled off to face the music.

"Uncle Jon?" Amanda asked with a grin.

"Not really, but they call all of us uncle or aunt. The blond she-devil is T'Mir, Trip and T'Pol's daughter and the truck that ran me over is our son Henry."

"He has pointy ears," Shran noticed with a wrinkled brow. "Does that mean, you also married a Vulcan?"

"T'Pau," Jon confirmed.

"You got married to the former Vulcan first minister?" Shran asked in disbelief.

"Long story and there'll be plenty time to tell it. Why don't you join us for our beer-bash in the Captain's mess at 1800?"

"I don't want to leave Amanda all alone for the evening," Shran refused.

"She won't be alone," Archer replied and turned to Amanda. "When Hoshi got the news that we'll give you a ride to Earth, she was thrilled to have a new addition to the weekly Ladies dinner. She'd be happy if you joined them."

"Ladies dinner?" Amanda asked.

"Yep, while we guys have our weekly bacchanalia, our wives meet for other, usually more civilized activities. I think today's program is an Andorian dinner, so you should feel right at home. Talas has been waiting for her chance to show off her cooking skills."

"Talas?" Shran wondered at the mentioning of his former tactical officer.

"Got hitched to Malcolm Reed, a year after Trip and T'Pol's wedding."

"And he's still alive?" Shran wondered.

"Surprisingly yes," Archer laughed as they arrived at the guest quarters. "He isn't my security chief for nothing, but he can tell you in person tonight. Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

X X X

"Evening, chaps," Malcolm quipped as he entered the Captains mess. "Hello, Shran, nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too. I heard some very interesting news..."

"I'm sure you did," Malcolm answered with a grin, mustering the attendance. "Where's Kov?"

"In sick bay," Trip answered. "He was doing some experiments today and made the grave mistake of asking T'Mir and Henry to assist him."

"He teaches physics at our school," Archer explained, noticing Shrans confused expression.

"You have a school on the ship?"

"We have 20 kids aboard," Archer answered with a chuckle. "We're a fertile bunch, ever since Phlox managed to combine human and Vulcan or Andorian genomes."

"How did they get Kov into sick bay?" Malcolm asked.

"They were experimenting with spring scales and Kov asked T'Mir to apply exactly one Newton of power."

"I can see, where that's going," Malcolm smirked. Everybody knew T'Mir's less than successful attempts at controlling her immense strength, which was unusual even for a non-hybrid Vulcan child.

"Yep," Trip continued. "She yanked that thing down to the tilt and let go. The weight hit Kov square in the face and knocked him out cold."

"Is he badly injured?" Travis asked.

"It speaks!" all men, except Shran, shouted and started laughing. Travis just rolled his eyes at Enterprise's most senior joke and joined the laughter.

"No, just a concussion and the mother of all green-eyes," Trip explained. "But I don't think he'll ask these two for assistance again any time soon."

"They seem to be dangerous," Shran noticed, while pouring out Andorian Ale, which he had brought for the occasion. "I saw them knocking over Archer today. So they maimed a Vulcan and knocked over the pink-skin all in one day?"

"Yep, was a quite one today," Trip quipped, causing Shran to look at him in surprise.

"I think the record stands at 4 casualties a day," Malcolm clarified.

"Yeah," Trip recounted with a laugh. "First I was so stupid to take them on a tour of engineering. Henry prodded an open EPS relay, that Anna was working on and the thing blew up, sending me flying over the railing. That was their first kill of the day."

"Later they started a pillow fight," Jon continued, equally laughing.

"With T'Pol's meditation cushions," Trip butted in. "One of which hit T'Pol square in the face, when she came home to check on them. She was caught off-guard and landed on her butt in a crowded corridor."

"No injuries, but her motherly dignity was seriously dented," he finished as all started to laugh again.

"Then there was the attempt on the life of the tactical officer," Malcolm said in a mock dramatic tone.

"Oh, yeah. They decided to 'play engineer' and disassembled and reassembled Henry's remote controlled model of _Enterprise,_" Jon remembered.

"Needless to say they had some parts left after reassembling it," Trip continued, grinning. "One of them was the gyro-stabilizer. When they tested it, they of course lost control and smashed it into Mal's face, just as he came 'round the corner."

"That was one helluva black-eye," Travis remembered.

"It speaks!"

"Last victim of the day was poor Hoshi," Jon continued.

"Oh, dear," Malcolm said with a chuckle. "Henry had that new com device, which he'd nicked from T'Pau's desk and turned it on when he walked onto the bridge without permission. It wasn't calibrated yet and it caused a hideous feedback in Hoshi's ear-piece. She had a tinnitus for two weeks."

Shran looked around, antennae twirling in surprise as the pink-skins obviously found such hazardous antics amusing.

"Given half a chance, those two would break everything. But hell, we all love 'em to bits," Trip explained.

"And they're an item, that's for sure," Malcolm added.

"An item?" Shran asked.

"In ten to twelve years, those two are going to get married," Trip supplied and started chuckling. "When you'd ask them about when they started dating, they'll probably say 'when we were two'."

"They've been inseparable since earliest childhood," Malcolm explained further.

"At least it spares me the betrothal stuff," Trip continued. "Shortly after the kid's births both T'Pol and T'Pau were on the tradition trip. Must be some post-natal thing, considering they didn't go much by tradition themselves, us being humans and all. But before the two mom's could put their plan into practice the kids had taken things in their own hands."

Everyone laughed at that, while Shran refilled the glasses with a fresh round of ale.

"How come the children were born at the same time? I thought Vulcans can only conceive every seventh year?" Shran asked.

"The magic skills of our good doctor," Malcolm explained vaguely, pointing in Phlox's direction.

"Thank you Malcolm," Phlox added, flattered. "But I merely managed to synthesize the compound, which affected T'Pol during the second year of our mission, so we now can induce the necessary condition at will."

"Don't sell yourself... short, Phlox," Archer replied, twisting his face after downing his ale. "Have you any idea how long the waiting list at the Vulcan medical compound in San Francisco is? You'll probably get filthy rich, just by making some Vulcan women go all swivel-eyed."

"He also managed to combine Andorian and Human genomes and you only need one Andorian," Malcolm added. "So if you and Amanda ever think of spawning..."

"Will you get a new ship?" Shran asked Archer, ignoring Malcolm's quip. Four-way marriage had always been a sore topic between him and Amanda, but this was not the place to let his renewed hope for offspring show.

"No. Pretty much all of us have family now, so we're staying dirt side, when they put the old girl on a plinth," he explained with a melancholic view at his Captains mess.

"All of you have family?" Shran asked.

"Yeah. T'Pol and I, Jon and T'Pau," Trip started to list the pairings. "The sun-tanned wallflower over there got hitched to Hoshi."

Everyone followed Trip's glance to Travis and the men started laughing.

"Kov and Anna Hess married last year," Trip continued. "Malcolm and Talas had their wedding together with Jon and T'Pau. T'was probably the wildest party in the history of Enterprise. Never saw a Vulcan drunk before both T'Pol and T'Pau passed out on Rostov's hideous Samogon stuff."

"Don't remind me," Jon replied with a groan, holding his head as if he was nursing a massive head ache. "That stuff can give Shran's ale a run for its money."

"Samogon?" Shran asked.

"Self-made Russian vodka," Archer clarified. "I would offer you a taste, but Rostov's wife T'Lara threatened to nerve-pinch him into the middle of next week, if he ever produced that stuff again. If T'Pau's first few days after our wedding are any indication, a Vulcan hangover is a wee bit more inconvenient than a bit of a headache and an upset stomach.

"Another Vulcan? Are there any of you, who married within the same species except him?" Shran laughed, pointing at Travis.

"Well, Soval did," Malcolm chuckled. "He married V'Lar two years ago. But that's about it. We're a colourful bunch."

"Apparently," Shran consented with a grin.

"And with you, it just got a bit more colourful," Malcolm added, downing the next ale, followed by a twisted face and a rather healthy burp. "Not even counting the better supply of booze."

X X X

"Hi girls," Hoshi quipped cheerily as she entered Trip and T'Pol's spacious cabin, where the ladies dinner was staged.

As the host of the evening, Talas answered the greeting and showed Hoshi, where to sit.

"Nice that you could make it," Hoshi said, smiling into Amanda's direction.

"From what I've heard, I should have brought a helmet though," Amanda smiled back with a thumb pointing at T'Mir and Henry, who were playing – surprisingly quietly - in a corner of the cabin.

"Their quota of destruction and injury has hopefully already been met for today," T'Pol explained.

"How come they are so... um... destructive?" Amanda asked back. "They seem like nice kids."

"They are," T'Pau supplied. "Unfortunately T'Mir possesses an unusual physical strength, even by Vulcan standards and she often fails to factor it into her decisions."

"I've heard you're going to teach sports at Seleya High?" Anna Hess asked.

"Yes," Amanda explained. "All the Andorian staff sends their children there."

"As do we," Hoshi continued with a wicked grin. "So you'll have T'Mir in your sports class."

"Engaging her in non-contact activities would be strongly advisable," T'Pau provided helpfully. "Her latest attempt at doing otherwise led to... unfortunate results."

"Please tell," Anna grinned.

"Malcolm is training Henry in a human martial art called boxing. As is her habit, T'Mir accompanied him to observe the practice and expressed a desire to try it herself."

All eyes turned to Talas when the Andorian woman started to laugh. T'Pau and T'Pol raised a knowing eyebrow.

"So that's where he got the black-eye from," Talas giggled. "He wouldn't tell me."

"It is understandable that his 'male ego' did not allow him to divulge that he was struck to the ground by a 9 year old female with leather gloves," T'Pol remarked dryly.

"You said it is her habit to watch him practice. Do they do everything together?" Amanda asked, noticing that when talk was about any of the kids playing in the corner, the other one was inevitably mentioned as well.

"Yes," T'Pol explained with a slight nod. "Both myself and T'Pau had agreed that a betrothal was a logical course of action once they would be of the appropriate age, but both of them obviously came to the same conclusion at a much younger age."

Amanda looked at them in surprise. "They are way too young."

"Tell **them** that," Hoshi giggled back. "They've been one heart and one soul since the day they stopped soiling their diaper."

"Never thought of Vulcans as romantics," Amanda smiled.

"Half-Vulcan," T'Pol corrected, glancing at the playing couple with motherly pride. "Their fathers genes might have something to do with it. It took me years to grasp the human concept of romance that Trip is so interested in. Obviously our children did need much less time."

"T'Mir, Henry, I believe it is time to retire," T'Pol addressed the children.

With surprisingly little protest, the children followed T'Pol into the adjacent cabin, which was T'Mir's.

"Do they already have joint quarters?" Amanda asked in a mixture of surprise and giggle.

"No, but they usually spend the night together in one cabin when our husbands have their weekly congregation as they tend to inebriate themselves at times," T'Pau explained. "Most likely the prospect of a... 'sleep-over' was the reason for the missing protest against having to retire. I shall stay here for the night, while the men recover from their likely intoxication in our quarters."

"And with Shran in the mix this time, they **will** be sodding drunk," Talas added with amusement.

"Your hubby is rubbing off on you, Talas," Hoshi grinned and uncorked a bottle of wine. "It's not the first time you use British phrases."

"We've been married for almost 10 years," Talas answered with a shrug.

X X X

"So," Shran prattled. "How did you end up marrying my former First?"

"Well, I think we hit off immediately, when you guys saved our sorry arses in the Expanse."

"Yeah, she sabotaged my ship," Archer prattled with mock indignation.

"But she did it skilfully and we found out in time," Malcolm replied.

"Admiddit," Trip babbled. "You was hicked..., no..., hooked the moment she came into the mess hall..."

"If you say so..."

"Whish one of you is Reed?" Trip mocked, remembering the first ever meeting of the two in _Enterprise's _battered mess hall. "You like your women all bossy, admiddit..."

"Hey, we can have a nice evening and still do martial arts practice," Malcolm defended himself, while accepting a refill from Shran. "I like that in a woman."

"So, did you propose or she?" Shran asked.

"She'sh blue, whaddaya think," Trip butted in.

Seeing Shran's knowing grin, Malcolm added: "Saying no did not sound like a good idea at the time."

"And you? How did you convince the Vulcan first minister to have you?" Shran asked while refilling Archers glass.

"T'was her idea," Jon explained. "She sort of took a liking to me, when we hiked through the desert. When the war started, she was sort of bummed when the High Council pressed her to stay neutral. So she just quit the job and joined our crew."

"Where'ss you gonna live Shran?" Trip prattled.

"We've been assigned a residence in an area called 'Seleya Hills'."

"Welcome to the neighbourhood," Malcolm laughed. "We are all going to live there."

Everyone watched Trip standing up and stagger towards the couch.

"You crashin' here?" Jon asked.

"Yeah. T'Pol jus' send a message," Trip babbled, waving his com-PADD. "Kids're staying with the ladies."

With a loud "oomph" he landed on the sofa and was out cold.

"Can't hold his ale?" Shran asked.

"He can give you a run for your money on any day," Malcolm answered. "But he worked 36 hours straight to get the engines in shape. His pride didn't allow him to give our old girl back in less than pristine condition."

"_Ti prav alksh, s tebya botylka_," Rostov added in his native language, before switching back to English. "That engine is in better condition than it was, when we shipped out."


	2. Fix it with a Hammer

Episode 2: Fix It With A Hammer

_A/N:  
>I've gotten a few reviews and PM's 'complaining' about the unusual pairings. I want to remind you that these are part of the comedy nature of this story. It won't all be slapstick and clownery, but the whole story is not meant overly serious. It's just a little piece meant to be funny of sorts and it goes without saying that it is very AU. <em>

_By the way. If you're interested in seeing what I had in mind for the music performed during the crew party, go on a youtube and search for the following songs performed by a band called "Schiehallion": "Donald McGillivray", "Battle of the Prestonpans", "For These Are My Mountains"._

Trip woke up to the feeling of a dozen plasma relays blowing up in his head. Noticing the absence of wife in his arms he rolled over to rectify that situation. He should have remembered that he had crashed on Jon's couch last night, but since he didn't, he face-planted the cold floor when he fell off the sofa with a loud thud.

Of course such misadventure would not be complete without being seen in such an undignified position, so luck had it that just in that very moment Jon trundled by on his way to the bathroom.

"You running for pope?" he quipped nonchalantly. "Certainly got the floor kiss covered."

"Funny..., very funny," Trip groaned, trying to wrestle his wobbly legs into obedience. "How long I've been out?"

"A good 12 hours," Jon noted. "Prepare for a lecture from your wife for working 36 hours again. Look at the bright side, though. You were out after the first few ales. You're probably the only one of us, who has his head on straight today."

"Doesn't feel like it yet," Trip muttered. "Feels like someone stuffed a dead possum in my mouth."

"The morning breath from hell," Jon said, disappearing into the bath room.

X X X

"News from Gardner?" Trip pointed at the PADD in Jon's hand, as he came out of the bathroom after a shower and a change of uniform, which made him feel like a member of humanity again.

"No; Marital orders," Jon replied with a head-shake, pouring Trip a coffee. "We are to leave the quarters in pristine condition and I'm ordered to make sure that you put your uniform in the laundry basket instead of leaving it on the floor again."

"You mean to say, T'Pau was not happy that we left your home looking like a battle field last time?" Trip asked with a sarcastic tone.

"Yeah," Jon agreed equally amused. "A little tactical alarm is really no reason to skip the cleaning up part, is it."

"Can't really imagine yet, how it's gonna be to remain dirt-side," Trip said, while sipping his coffee. "Somehow I'm gonna miss the life we've been having the last 15 years."

"You'll miss being shot at?" Jon asked with an incredulous look.

"Maybe not that. But... I can't see myself being the type for living in a house in a fancy neighbourhood as a doting hubby."

"What's going to change?" Jon asked. "We all will have our jobs, our kids will continue to wreak havoc and we sure as hell won't give up our weekly beer bash. And you will continue fiddling with your engines."

"That isn't decided yet," Trip said.

"It is," Jon disagreed. "I wanted to wait for the daily briefing, but I can tell you that you'll be head of the Constitution class project, **Captain**."

Trip's eyes went wide and his grin threatened to break Phlox's standing record. "I'll be damned!"

X X X

T'Pol took a look at the Bridge crew, once Captain Archer had left her in charge after the daily briefing. Commander Reed was working on his tactical station and she knew it was mainly diagnostic work. Enterprise had been in Federation space for several days and the tactical alarm seven days ago was the last time that his expertise had been needed. For an officer with his expertise and distinction the rather repetitive tasks while flying in friendly space must be challenging his patience, but fortuitously his wife Talas 'kept him on his toes', as Trip used to describe it.

Trip himself was seated at the Engineering console, keeping an eye on the various read-outs. Although she did not approve of his overly long shift that had left him almost two days without sleep, she had decided against berating him. He had spent the last 15 years caring for the mechanical device and although _Enterprise _was the oldest of all the surviving NX-class ships, it was by far the fastest of them and was mostly her husband's work. Probably sensing her mental ramblings he shot her a grateful look.

Her look fell on Hoshi and not for the first time she noticed the longing glances that were exchanged between her and her husband, Lieutenant Maywheather. She found it somewhat strange that two people, who were married and shared quarters would look at each other as if they had been separated for a long period of time. Even after 15 years living with Humans, she still found new and unknown nuances in their behaviour.

Confronted with the strange looks between the two Lieutenants, she decided that a mental consultation was needed, even though she had agreed with her husband to keep 'bond-speak' – as Trip called it – to a minimum during duty hours.

_Husband. I need your help._

Startled by the unexpected mental nudge Trip looked up at her.

_What is it?_

_Hoshi and Lieutenant Maywheather are exchanging looks as if they had been separated for an extended period of time. Could that be an indication for problems in their marriage?_

_Don't think so. I think I saw them canoodling in the lift yesterday, when Hoshi 's shift... Wait a minute. Can you route an access channel to the duty rosters to my console?_

_Of course_

X X X

"What'cha think?" Trip asked, presenting his choice of clothing to T'Pol after a long shift on the bridge.

"It is an agreeable choice," T'Pol approved. "It may however cause disagreement with T'Mir."

Trip sighed. "Let me guess. Henry is wearing a blue shirt, too."

"Indeed. You know that she does not look favourably at her 'old father' wearing the same attire as her chosen."

'Old father, my ass," Trip snorted, sensing the teasing in T'Pol's reply.

"Y'know, I'm sorta worried," he said, while taking off the shirt that would bring down the wrath of his kid upon him. "I mean, if it goes on at that rate, we're soon gonna walk in on something, when Henry stays with T'Mir during our weekly beer bash. They're like an old married couple already."

"They do not yet engage in physical intimacy beyond 'cuddling' and kissing," T'Pol explained. "But since they develop close to human rates of maturing, it is to be expected that this might change in 4 to 5 years."

"Oh dear," Trip groaned, while presenting an alternative choice of shirt colour.

"Your attire looks agreeable. We should go now or the festivities conclude before we arrive."

"Lead the way darlin'"

X X X

Trip loved Thursdays. It had been a Wednesday on which a massive human fleet had finally blasted their Romulan adversaries into surrender during the bloody battle of Cheron, which had led to the most raucous victory party in Starfleet history the next day. Trying to rebuild the crew's spirit after years of bloody war, Captain Archer had made the crew party a weekly affair, with a tremendous impact on crew moral.

As they were nearing the mess hall, loud singing could be heard.

_Donald has foughten wi' reif and roguery  
>Donald has dinnered wi' banes an' beggary<br>Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery  
>Meeting the Devil than Donald McGillivray<br>Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray  
>Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray<br>Push about in and oot and thimble them cleverly  
>Here's to King James and tae Donald McGillivray."<em>

"Looks like McElroy commandeered the stage again," Trip said with a chuckle.

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed. "This type of music seems to be very popular with the crew."

"No wonder," Trip snorted with amusement. "Nothing goes better with a few beers that a good Scottish tune."

"You must know husband," T'Pol replied with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

_Donald's the caller that brooks nae tangledness  
>Whiggin' and Priggin' and a' newfangledness<br>They maun be gane - he winna' be baukit man  
>He maun hae justice or faith, he'll tak' it, man<br>Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray  
>Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray<br>Beat them and bore them and handle them cleverly  
>Up wi' King James and wi' Donald McGillivray<em>

The were nearly there, when the mess hall's door opened, Hoshi darted out and passed them without sparing them a look.

"Did Hoshi cry?" T'Pol asked.

"Looked like it," Trip said sending a worried glance after a rapidly retreating Hoshi.

As they entered the Mess Hall they saw dozens of couples dancing to the music, forming a big circle. In the middle of the circle a blissfully grinning, spit-and-polished Henry Archer was twirling an equally happy T'Mir Tucker around, eliciting ooh's and awww's from the other dancers.

Trip covered his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Shit, I know, what's wrong with Hoshi. Come!"

Having dragged T'Pol out of the mess hall, he waited for the door to close, so they wouldn't have to shout at each other over the loud music.

"No wonder Hoshi freaked," Trip sighed. "Seeing our kids happy like that must get to her."

"I do not understand." T'Pol said.

"Look, Hoshi and Travis are the only ones of us not having kids yet and I know Hoshi wants a whole truckload o' kids."

"Do they have fertility problems?"

"I don't know, but I do know, that they can't have kids if they can't hop in the sack. I've checked the duty rosters. For almost four weeks now at least one of them has always been on night duty. The only free nights were the weekly bashes, when Hoshi is with you girls and Travis is with us guys. You know them. Both would never neglect their friends"

"It is unfortunate that Ensign Carmichael was injured, which requires double-shifts for the remaining helmsmen," T'Pol noted. "However I do not understand Hoshi's distress. We will arrive in Earth orbit in 10 days time. Shouldn't she then have more than ample time to 'hop in the sack'?"

"Darlin', you've been with us Humans for 15 years now. Have you ever known us for being logical?"

"Certainly not."

"See; And women are illogical even by human standards," he said, winning him a disapprovingly raised eyebrow. "I bet you anything that Hoshi's ovulating right now. That she could try again next month is certainly not on her mind. Not when she's horny like the neighbours cat and sees our kids dance up a storm. What's she supposed to do when she barely ever sees Travis? Sit on the curbstone with spread legs and hope for cross-pollination?"

T'Pol looked at him in confusion.

"I think you should look after Hoshi. She's probably in her quarters, bawling her eyes out. I'll have an eye on the kids and tonight we'll think about a way to give 'em a few hours the next days."

"Agreed," T'Pol said and took off in pursuit of Hoshi.

_That afternoon, what a' was done,  
>I gade to see the fray, man;<br>But I had wist what after past,  
>I'd better staid away, man:<br>On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands,  
>They pick'd me pockets bare, man;<br>But I wish ne'er to dree sic fear,  
>For a' the sum and mair, man.<em>

Petty officer first class Marty McElroy was molesting his guitar, roaring the last verse of the crew's favourite "Battle of the Prestonpans" into the microphone when Trip re-entered the mess hall. Couples on the dance floor expressed their gratitude with loud ovation, while an out-of-breath T'Mir dragged Henry along as soon as she had spotted her father.

"Daddy...," she said. "Why... was aunt Hoshi... so sad? She ran away."

"I know, princess. Hoshi is sad, because she couldn't dance today," he lied. "Travis had to work a lot lately and when he was at home, Hoshi had to work. She misses him."

"Can't daddy give him a day off?" Henry asked, shaking his head.

"That's not so easy. One of our pilots is in sickbay and we haven't got enough people to fly the ship."

"Not true," Henry insisted. "Daddy can fly,too. He's the best and aunt T'Pol can fly, too."

"You know, Henry," Trip said, the proverbial penny dropping in his mind. "You're right."

T'Mir started to giggle.

"Y'know, daddy. In the morning, after you all have your meeting, uncle Jon always visits the people in sickbay and mommy is the boss on the bridge. She could send uncle Travis and aunt Hoshi away to have a day off."

l"Great idea princess," Trip beamed. "Let me check with your mom."

The kids stuck their heads together and started whispering about their master plan to get aunt Hoshi and uncle Travis a day off, now and then eliciting a giggle from either kid.

"Ok, you rascals," Trip said after a lengthy telepathic meeting with T'Pol. Assuming a mock-official posture, he addressed Jon's son. "Henry, I have a job for you. Tomorrow at 0830 you report to Doctor Phlox to receive instructions for your mission."

"Aye, Sir!" Henry said and assumed the 'at-attention' pose.

"Um, Sir," he said after a while. "Can T'Mir help, too."

"Of course," Trip said with a smile, raising a warning finger. "But, what Phlox says is the law. Got that ?

"Aye, Sir," the kids giggled in unison, before T'Mir dragged Henry back to the dance floor. McElroy had just started to croon her favourite song "For These Are My Mountains".

X X X

"Got the hammer?" T'Mir giggled as the two kids rode the lift up to the bridge.

"Yep," he answered giving her a knowing grin.

When the two youngsters walked onto the bridge, they were met by a set of parental eyes as both T'Pol and Trip stared them down.

"T'Mir, Henry?" Trip asked with a mock scowl.

"Um, when uncle Jon allowed us on the bridge," T'Mir said. "I think I lost my pendant. Can we look for it?"

"Agreed," T'Pol said. "But be swift."

Both kids nodded and dove below Hoshi's console, pretending to be searching the ground.

X X X

Hoshi felt a small hand tapping her calf and pushed her chair back to look under her console, where Henry and T'Mir, crawling on all fours sent her a broad grin and a wink.

Hoshi covered her mouth to prevent the rest of the bridge crew from seeing her smile. Her eyes followed the kids as they crawled on towards Travis' console.

"Um, Uncle Travis, can you move your right leg?" Henry asked. "I think I saw something."

"Sure, little man," Travis acquiesced amusedly and moved his right leg a few inches closer to the edge of the console.

"No, uncle Travis," T'Mir protested. "You do it like that."

She folded his right leg over the left one, while Travis exchanged amused looks with the rest of the bridge crew. While he was still wondering, why Talas stood with Malcolm, although her shift was not yet scheduled to begin, he missed how Henry fished one of Plox's tendon hammers from his pocket and whacked it in, just below Travis' knee cap, just as Phlox had instructed him to do. His patellar reflex being in top condition, the pilot's leg shot up and slammed into the underside of the console.

"Ow! Why, you little..."

Before Travis could engage in more swearing, T'Pol stepped in.

"Lieutenant Maywheather seems to have injured himself. Lieutenant Sato, please escort Lieutenant Maywheather to his quarters. Your stations will be covered for the rest of the shift. Lieutenant Commander Talas, please man the communications console."

"Aye, ma'am"

A grinning Hoshi lead a slightly confused and slightly hobbling helmsman to the turbo-lift, while two pointy eared heads appeared from under Travis's console, met with laughter from the bridge crew. T'Pol allowed herself a satisfied eyebrow-lift before taking Travis's seat.

X X X

Captain Archer, who had actually been Commodore Archer for the last two years already, but had never come to get used to anything but the rank he had held for almost 13 years, walked out of the lift onto the bridge and noticed the two mistakes in the picture immediately.

His first officer, who was expected to keep the big chair warm was sitting at helm controls, flying the ship and unless Hoshi was really good at holding her breath, she was not supposed to be as blue as the occupant of her chair. Taking a minute to process the situation, he addressed T'Pol.

"How long?"

"Captain?"

"How long have their schedules not overlapped?"

"Twenty four days," T'Pol reported, knowing that Archer had seen through her little scheme.

"Tell them to take a day off tomorrow, too," the captain ruled. "But one thing you should know, Commander..."

T'Pol looked at him expectantly.

"You're in my seat, **I'm driving**," Archer demanded and took the seat that T'Pol had quickly vacated.

"I've been wanting to do that for 15 years," Archer said with a chuckle and disengaged the auto-pilot.


	3. Cloak And Dagger

**EPISODE 3: CLOAK AND DAGGER**

_An anniversary is coming up, causing the weekly ladies gathering as well as the guy's beer bash to be cancelled. _

"If it wasn't for the ears, I wouldn't believe that I'm talking to two Vulcans," Trip said exasperated. "I mean, if that idea had come from Malcolm…, but you?"

"If you look back at several such celebrations of the past, you will realize that the concept of 'gag gifts', based on a common theme, is not necessarily a new concept," T'Pau insisted.

"So we did that before," Trip said. "But the scheme is all wrong. T'Pau, you of all people should see that."

"I believe my husband is well able to see the irony in getting presents for his alleged retirement on his fifty-fourth anniversary."

Trip sighed.

"But you do remember that Enterprise is decommissioned the day after, don't you? The 'retirement' scheme gets quite the sour aftertaste, if your ship is put into a museum the next day and you're the captain."

T'Pol and T'Pau thought about that for a moment.

"I believe in this case we shall modify the theme slightly. The original 'retirement' theme remains, but the gifts should also refer to the history of Enterprise's mission," T'Pol suggested.

"Bit of a funny look back," Trip mused. "That could work. But I'm still not sure that it won't backfire."

=/\=

Chief Kranz walked cautiously towards the meeting point with his MACO co-conspirator. Reaching the agreed spot near the transporter alcove, he waited a few moments before Master Sergeant Jean de Cortez stepped out of the shadows.

"Everything prepared?" the MACO asked.

"Yes. We're parked in transporter range of Space Station Centauri III. Their transporter room is standing by. Tucker has faked an injector problem, but we should be done as quickly as possible. Archer won't buy that Tucker needs an hour to straighten out a moody injector."

"OK," the MACO agreed with a nod. "Let's get the show on the road."

Kranz walked up to the transporter controls and pushed up the energy levers.

Accompanied by the typical whine of a matter transport, four crates materialized in the shimmering light. Kranz walked up to the platform and checked the delivery, while de Cortez made a small gesture which caused a group of MACO's to appear seemingly out of thin air.

"You people really ARE good," Kranz said, admiring the stealthy talents of the soldiers.

"Which one goes where?" de Cortez asked.

"This one to Engineering," Kranz explained handing one of the MACOs a key card. "Put it in Commander Tucker's office and return the keys to me."

Watching the four MACOS walk off with the heavy package, Kranz turned to the other two soldiers.

"This one goes to the science lab."

As before, they walked off leaving only Kranz and de Cortez behind.

"I'll take this one," the Chief instructed and grabbed a crate that had several slits on the top and bottom. De Cortez grabbed the last crate and followed Kranz.

=/\=

"Ugh," Henry Archer groaned as he woke prematurely from a deep sleep. Trying to get a bearing on his surroundings, he rolled over to glance at the chronometer, but before he could do so his field of vision was obstructed by a blond-haired head planting a clumsy and noisy good-morning kiss on his lips.

"You are worse than Mom and Aunt T'Pol," he sighed when he finally got a glance at the clock. "Why are you awake so early? Go back to sleep!"

"We must look to see whether our package for Uncle Jon has arrived," the little girl demanded and climbed out of bed, dragging a rather reluctant Henry with her.

=/\=

Jon walked the corridors of his ship, as he had done so often over the last fifteen years, but it hadn't been the same recently. Not only was the ship to be retired to a plinth in just two days; the absence of a tail-wagging companion added to Jon's malaise. Dying peacefully in his sleep four years ago, Porthos had left a hole in Jon's life.

Of course, the marriage to T'Pau and the birth of his precious son, Henry, had obliterated Porthos' status as the sole companion of the long-serving star-ship Captain, but there were situations in which the faithful little ball of fur was sorely missed. The long walks through the ship were one of those. Taking Henry for walk would only earn him the wrath of little T'Mir for hijacking her troubadour and taking both of them wasn't an option either, because their joint talent for unfortunate mishaps would make a stroll along the corridors the equivalent of entering Trip's department with a shirt saying "F*ck the Engines". It would just be begging for trouble.

Still mourning the absence of a walking companion, Jon bumped into someone as he changed direction at a T-junction.

"Are you trying to beat your son at his own game?" the blue obstacle in Jon's path asked in reference to Henry's body-check a few days before.

"Huh... oh, Shran. Sorry about that," Jon muttered. "Guess I was a bit distracted."

"Obviously, " Shran said with a smirk. "Saying good bye to your ship?"

"Something like that," Jon said. "It's hard to imagine that she's gonna be decommissioned after only fifteen years. Somehow it feels like she's being cheated out of many years of faithful service."

"At least you'll be able to visit her whenever you want. Something I can't say about my first ship."

"Looking at it like that, you're right," Jon agreed. "Really, Shran, you should become a councillor, not an ambassador."

"I might be able to read you, pink skin, but I have no clue about most other humans. I've been married to Amanda for years now and she's still a complete mystery."

"Don't expect that to change, ever," Jon said with a laugh. "Men have tried to make sense of their ladies for centuries. They all failed."

=/\=

Stealthily, Agent T'Mir came up to the entrance of engineering's production workshop. Since parts were rarely produced from raw materials aboard the ships anymore - after fifteen years in space, humanity and its Federation allies had more than enough space stations to get new parts from - this particular part of engineering had been all but unused for the last three years. Today, however, one day before uncle Jon's 54th birthday, it was buzzing with activity. It would be a perfect place for Agent Henry to hide in, so Agent T'Mir, obliged by their game to find and apprehend him, snuck a peek inside.

Her father, the ship's Chief Engineer, was standing with his back to the door and inspecting some sort of rod made from a dark, shiny wood. This was too good an opportunity to pass up and Agent T'Mir snuck up to her parent, tickling him from behind.

Her male ancestor, in deep concentration and unprepared for a pint-sized Agent tickling him, was so startled that he threw up his arms and let go of the rod, which went flying, hit and extinguished a ceiling lamp, before its deflected flight path brought it on direct collision course with Uncle Kov's head. BANG!

T'Mir froze when she saw the rather unexpected consequences of her sneak attack. Groaning, her father turned around and stared her down. "What did we tell you and Henry about playing 'Super Agents'?"

T'Mir took up her usual 'guilty-pout-staring-at-the-floor pose'.

"You will apologize to Uncle Kov and help him cool the bump on his head, got me?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said and trundled towards the slightly dented Uncle Kov.

"After that, you might just as well go to your room and start meditating already, because that's going to be your mother's verdict anyway."

"But I don't want to meditate without Henry," she complained.

"Don't worry," Trip said. "Knowing him, your Henry will soon try the same prank on your mothers. Have a guess how that's going to go."

=/\=

Stealthily, Agent Henry snuck up to the astrophysics lab entry. His two years of experience as 'Super Spy 00-Archer' told him that Agent T'Mir would hide somewhere with her parents. His lady was way too curious to pass up an opportunity to find out what her Mommy and Daddy were going to give his dad as a birthday present.

He had considered the two opportunities that were open to his blond-haired girlfriend and playground adversary. Falsely believing that he knew all about his better half, Henry had decided that T'Mir would spy on the two resident Vulcan moms in the science lab, since spying on two people in one go would be twice as effective as spying on Uncle Trip only. At least that's what he'd have chosen, were he playing the fugitive's role in today's game.

Entering the astrophysics lab, he quickly ducked below one of the desks. Nobody was inside, but the hideous screeching noises from the adjacent storage room told him that the lab was not completely empty. Due to the loud noises, nobody had heard the door opening and closing again.

Agent Henry silently questioned the logic of Mommy and Aunt T'Pol. If he could enter undetected so could his father, and the surprise would be spoiled. Waiting for another 2 minutes, during which nobody scanned the room for trespassers, he silently inched closer to the open entry of the storage room.

Peeking around the door frame he saw Aunt T'Pol, a magnifying glass squeezed into her right eye, working on some sort of metal plaque with a laser. Too good an opportunity to pass up, thought the little wannabe-spy, and snuck up on her from behind. Just before his aunt came into arm's reach, little Henry felt his feet disconnect from the floor, while his right arm shot up and he found himself hanging in the air, his wrist in the iron grip of his mother, who had shown her superior spy talents by sneaking up on him from behind.

Notified by the boy's yelp of surprise, his aunt had turned around and he looked into her disapproving face. She stared him down with what Uncle Trip had once called "The Eyebrow of Doom".

"Unfortunately for you, T'Mir has already been apprehended after a similar attempt at mischief," she lectured. "You may now go to her quarters, where both of you will engage in meditation for at least two hours. She is already waiting."

"You're no fun," Henry complained. "T'Mir's been caught, Uncle Trip used the bond telephone with you to rat her out and then Mom just spied on me with her big telepathic powers. Not fair!"

"While your logical deduction is commendable, your choice of words is not - three hours," he heard his mother announce from behind. She still held him dangling in mid air.

Henry groaned theatrically in frustration, as he was lowered to the floor again.

"I understand your frustration," Aunt T'Pol delivered dead-pan. "Three hours is fairly short. Four hours, then."

Without another word Henry trundled off in defeat, before any other reaction could cause the "Iron Moms" tag-team to extend their detention to a time that would make him late for his wedding with T'Mir.

=/\=

Chief Kranz put the finishing touches on the woollen blanket he had promised the kids to make for them. Considering that it had been more than three hours since they dropped by last time to check if their present for the Captain was still there, he could only assume that they had run into conflict with the matriarchal law again.

He wondered whether that brilliant an idea for a gift had come from the kids themselves. Despite all the havoc they wreaked, they were good kids, so it seemed likely. Especially little T'Mir was everybody's darling, which was not really a surprise. Even at this young age it was not too difficult to see that she would one day be a stunningly beautiful creature and little Henry would have his hands full fending off all the guys with a stick.

Kranz had to smile when he imagined how all the other kids would feel in a few years, having had the romance of the century thrown into their faces everyday. Lovers' quarrels between couples had been rumoured to resolve within minutes after seeing the two kids dance up a storm during the weekly crew parties. Every other romance on the ship paled in comparison to the fairy tale of the two pint-sized youngsters.

Continuing his mental ramblings, Kranz missed the entrance of Trip.

"What's so funny, Chief?"

"Hey, Commander; I was just thinking about our resident love-birds and how they are overdue to check on their present. Guess they're in detention again?"

"That's the bet with the lousiest odds in Hoshi's gambling empire," Trip snorted. "Yeah, I'm here to check.. They're threatening to stage a riot unless they're convinced that their precious present is still in one piece."

"Well, Commander, you may report that their present is still there and still carefully watched over around the clock."

"Nice to hear, Chief," Trip said and turned to go.

"Oh, Commander," Kranz asked before Trip was out the door. "Was that their idea or yours?"

"All theirs," Trip said with a smile of parental pride. "T'Pol and I were just needed to fill in the forms and to prepare T'Pau for what's coming."

"Thought it was something like that," Kranz said, grinning.

=/\=

The next day…

Jon checked his uniform again. Even though it was HIS party, T'Pau would never let him hear the end of it if he appeared with even a mildly dishevelled garment. He hated what was coming as surely as the Amen in church. He would open the door and a whole crowd would start singing "Happy Birthday" and he would hope for a tactical alarm or anything else to save him from being the center of so much attention. Even to himself that sounded utterly ridiculous considering that, as the ship's captain, he was the center of attention by default.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the open button and stepped into the mess hall. True to expectation the crowd erupted into song. Even the blue-skinned contingent participated in the ritual. Only the Vulcans did not sing, although Kov seemed to hum along merrily. The other Vulcans tried their best to emulate – to the best of their ability – a friendly face. To Jon's surprise however, the kids were missing. That had to be a first. Not having the latent telepathic abilities of Trip, he was the mute part in the bond with T'Pau, so he couldn't even ping her to find the reason for the kids' absence. His working theory was that they had done something sufficiently naughty for their mothers to exclude them from the festivities. The investigation would have to wait.

Once the singing was over, his senior officers started handing out presents.

=/\=

"Be careful," T'Mir demanded, as the kids made their way towards the mess hall. In a rare case of seeing reason, T'Mir had agreed to let Henry carry the delicate package. One sudden movement with that strength of hers and the surprise would turn into a nasty one.

Henry supported her decision by stating that, no matter who actually carried it, everyone knew that it was their joint present, anyway.

=/\=

Trip felt very nervous. Settled with the task of Master of Ceremony for the big present-giving, he knew that the theme the crew had agreed on could be extremely funny, but it also had the potential of utterly hurting Jon.

Taking the grand stage, he cleared his throat.

"Well, Cap'n, fifty four years, fifteen of them spent on this ship. It's time to settle down. Most of us are doing the same, but the crew wanted to make sure that at least one of us is properly equipped for it."

Some dared to laugh and applaud and when Jonathan Archer started to grin, the whole crowd started to cheer.

"First is the logistics and supply department, which presents you with a selection of robes and pyjamas made from finest Triaxian Silk," Trip announced.

The crowd cheered as crewman Mary-Jane Kensington, one of Chief Kranz's assistants, dressed the Captain in a long silken morning robe of deep blue color, while Kranz put a large package, probably containing more such clothing, on the table.

"No such outfit would be complete without a set of ridiculously comfy slippers," Trip continued, accompanied by giggles from the crowd. "Therefore the medical department, in cooperation with Chief Kranz, presents you with these utterly, mindbogglingly, biblically comfortable slippers, made from genuine … err," Trip stopped and looked at his PADD. "Err,…, genuine Tribble-fur. As always in situations that include Phlox and some sort of animal, you'd better not ask what it really is."

The crowd started laughing, loudest among them Phlox.

By now Jonathan Archer had turned into a source of amusement himself. There he stood, grinning like a Cheshire cat, wearing a long silken robe over his uniform and a set of furry slippers instead of his boots.

"Next is the security department," Trip announced, now feeling completely comfortable with mocking Jon's impeding 'retirement'. "You share a predicament with my wife and me. You are the parent of a mildly unpredictable kid."

The crowd erupted in hysterical laughter.

"Therefore, of course – first and foremost – you need protective head gear."

Before Jon knew what hit him, Malcolm had put an exact replica of the ridiculous beaded head-cover on Jon's head that he had once worn during an equally hilarious apology-ritual for the Kreetassans."

The long-time veterans started howling in laughter, while the other members of the crew – not knowing the exact importance of it – laughed along for the sheer hilarity of the Captain's appearance.

=/\=

Finally the couple had made it to the entrance of the mess hall, but they paused outside.

"You have better ears," Henry said. "Tell me when Uncle Trip gives the signal."

"Uncle Jon must look funny, they're all laughing," T'Mir giggled, her ear pressed to the door.

"We mustn't laugh when we see him," Henry said. "What if I drop the present?"

"We do what your mommy has told us – how to not show emotions," the girl suggested.

"You're better at that than me."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine."

=/\=

"Now," Trip proclaimed. "In the olden days, the man was supposed to be the king in the household. That's gonna be a wee bit tricky with a wife who once ruled a whole dang planet…"

The crowd started laughing again, while both T'Pol and T'Pau raised an amused eyebrow.

"Even if you're not going to be Jon I of Seleya Hills, at least you'll have a throne, courtesy of Engineering."

Cheers erupted when Anna Hess and Misha Rostov unveiled a rocking chair made from mahogany wood and motioned Jon to sit down in it.

"You do that one day before we return," Jon mock-complained laughingly, in reference to his hilarious appearance, which made it hard for the crew to stop laughing at all. "I've been the captain for 15 damn years and on my last day nobody's gonna take me seriously."

"T'Pol will be acting captain anyway," T'Pau remarked drily. "As soon as we reach the solar system, you will dismiss your helmsman and fly manually yourself."

"You know me too well, wife o' mine," Jon sighed theatrically.

"Now that we've established who the boss in the Archer household is," Trip announced with a giggle. "There's a personal gift from me."

Trip turned around and put a vaguely cylindrical object – covered and obscured with a big cloth – in front of the Captain's rocking chair. "There will come the day, when Henry asks you about a lil' brother or sister. And to help you out with that, I present...," Trip took away the cloth. "This bowl o'rocks!"

The crowd went berserk. Even though only long-time veterans fully understood the joke, by that time the crowd was in such frenzy that they would have laughed about the duty roster. Jon laughed so hard he almost toppled over in his rocking chair.

Once Trip had chastised the crowd back to a mere frenzy, he continued: "Fifteen years ago, my wife uncovered a preposterous case of presumptuousness, committed four decades ago by some 'Jonny Archer'. Evidence of it was hand-written in his astronomy book. Now, more than 40 years later, what was once presumptuousness becomes reality, so the science department decided to provide you with this," Trip announced and T'Pol handed over a small wrapped package.

Jon unwrapped the package and inside he found a polished brass door-plaque.

"Admiral Johnny Archer," he read out loud, his voice breaking with emotion.

Turning to T'Pol he asked: "You still remember that – after 15 years?"

Jon jumped out of his chair and wrapped T'Pol in a bear hug. Accustomed to the impulsiveness of their respective husbands, both T'Pol and T'Pau tolerated the gesture.

"You should know that by now," Trip delivered dead-pan. "You've been married to T'Pau long enough – they forget NOTHING, EVER."

Another round of hysterical laughter followed.

"Just so you don't think we're kidding here, folks," Trip said once the ruckus had subsided, "it's not a joke – he didn't know it himself yet until just now, because Gardner only told T'Pol of this – by this time tomorrow, if we're not late, Commodore Jonathan Archer will be Admiral Jonathan Archer, Head of Fleet operations!"

Frenetic applause filled the room and Trip tried to quiet the crowd down for the grand finale.

"There is one important item still missing here," he announced. "And if you're wondering, why the room isn't on fire yet or why Kov is still standing upright, It's because the Dastardly Duo has been waiting outside that door for the last fifteen minutes," Trip announced, pointing at the entrance. "I think we should call them in. Whaddaya think?"

The crowd started clapping rhythmically, while Trip concentrated all his modest telepathic abilities to get a mental nudge through to T'Mir."

Just a moment later the door opened and to much applause the two youngsters marched in, their faces so stoic it would have done their mothers justice. Expecting the usual grinning disposition of the kids, the crowd was so surprised that the applause died down immediately. Henry carried a woven basket with a bunched up woollen blanket in it, and the sudden silence in the room allowed a high-pitched yelp to be heard. The crowd froze.

Wordlessly, Henry gave the basket to his father, who looked at it in frozen shock. A small head emerged from the basket and a small beagle puppy began to lick one of Jon's hands. All dams broke. For the first time in fifteen years the crew saw their Captain crying.

T'Pau gently took the small basket from him and Jon squatted down to hug the two children ferociously, bawling in joy. He wasn't the only one. Just about every woman and quite a few men in the crowd were moved to tears. Even Shran squeezed away a tear, happy that except for Talas, there was no Andorian present to see the momentary crack in his carefully cultivated tough shell.


	4. Sport Is Good For You?

**Sport Is Good For You?**

Gardner took in the sight before him. Normally he should have to throw a temper tantrum right now, because the lot before him looked utterly unprofessional. Commander Tucker had a blond haired giggling girl riding on his shoulders. Not wanting to miss out on the fun Henry Archer had commandeered his 'uncle' Malcolm Reed for the same reason. The zip of Commodore Archer's uniform was halfway down from where it was supposed to be with a curious beagle puppy peeking out of the half opened garment.

That the crew of Earth's first warp 5 ship had taken to a somewhat eccentric attitude had been known to Starfleet for some time, but nobody dared to say anything. After all most of them had been in space for fifteen years now and six of those years had been spent in bloody wars against the Xindi and later the Romulans. No other crew had spent so much time on wartime duty.

Gardner let out a good natured sigh. If looks were any indication, this crew before him had become a big family, with kids referring to any adult not named mom or dad as 'aunt' or 'uncle'. Finally the fight was over. Not only the war against the Romulans, but also his permanent private war against the bean counters over at BuPers, who had pestered him for years with requests to transfer officers off _Enterprise_ onto other ships. He had fought all of them off, but had the war lasted a year or two longer, he most definitely would have had run out of excuses.

"If you weren't the most senior crew and the most successful wartime crew on top of that, you'd leave me with a months worth of paperwork, writing reprimands," he said with good natured exasperation.

"Glad to see you, too," Archer answered with an unrepentant grin.

"Welcome home you lot," Gardner said. "You all have now three months of shore leave. Get settled in, you've earned it."

"Three months," Trip said. "Someone's in a good mood."

"No need to be a smartass, Tucker. We all know that if we gave you all the shore leave you missed over the years, the next time you'd show up would be to collect your pensions. Now get out of here and I expect to be invited to one of these weekly beer bashes."

Gardner could barely contain his laughter about the momentary looks of shock on some faces.

"Folks, I might have been a desk monkey all those years," Gardner said with a snicker. "Did you think we wouldn't notice that more often than not the bridge crew was predominantly female on Thursday mornings?"

Shaking his head with a smile he watched Starfleet's most legendary crew walk off. This lot on Earth, this was going to be good.

=/\=

Soval walked over to the neighbouring house, but before he could spot any of the estate's new proprietors he was hit by a guided missile with blond hair.

"Uncle Soval, we've arrived. No more talking with the subspace thingy – we're staying and I go to school here and mommy said I can go do sports although daddy wouldn't take me there today and we have a garden and daddy builds me a tree house ..."

Soval looked down at the little girl, who tried – unsuccessfully – to wrap her little arms around his waist. Before the child would forget to breathe in her attempt to relay all the latest news within a single minute, he lifted her up and the little girl slung an arm around his neck.

"Welcome, child," he said. "Please calm yourself."

"Sorry, uncle Soval. That wasn't very Vulcan, was it" she said.

"Agreed. But your... excitement is understandable. Are your parents here?"

The child nodded vigorously. "Mommy is putting all the clothes in the new wardrobe. You gotta see, uncle Soval, its HUGE! And daddy is looking at all the gadgets in the kitchen and Henry is helping Grampa with the boxes. They won't let me help, although I'm much stronger than Henry and even stronger than Grampa. No fair, only because I'm a girl..."

"Breathe child," Soval interrupted calmly, trying not to bring an asphyxiated girl back to his new neighbours.

"Hi Soval," a clearly elated Commander Tucker greeted and Soval answered the greeting with a nod. Performing the _Ta'al_ was not very practical when a ten year old child was resting on one's arms.

"She giving you a hard time?" a grey haired male asked as he was passing with a cardboard box full of belongings. Soval surmised that this must be 'Grampa' and therefore Commander Tuckers male parent.

"Not at all, Mr. Tucker. She is merely agitated as life outside the confines of a starship is a new experience."

"That's one way to put it," the human replied.

"Charles Tucker jr. where are your manners?" came the sharp inquiry from the kitchen and a short while later an elderly human female stormed onto the scene. Judging by the unmistakable resemblance this could only be Commander Tuckers mother.

"I apologize for my husbands lack of manners, Ambassador" she said.

"Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Tucker. T'Mir's energetic greeting was more than enough to cover for all of you."

The human woman started to laugh and kissed the little girl's nose, eliciting a giggle from the child.

"May I render any assistance?" Soval asked.

"Thanks for the offer Soval," Commander Tucker said. "But I think we've got it covered. Wouldn't be right to make you work. You surely had a long day at the office already."

"Hardly," Soval said and set T'Mir down. "V'Lar has taken to do all the paper work for me. Somehow she has decided that I have become frail."

The human laughed. "Welcome to the world of married life. Help me with that?"

Without answering, Soval grabbed the heavy wooden panel and positioned it at the wall, where Commander Tucker started to screw it into place.

"Frail my ass," he said to which Soval raised an eyebrow.

"Just saying what you as a Vulcan are only allowed to think," he quipped and Soval's eyebrow crept up a little higher.

"Indeed," Soval replied neutrally and grabbed another panel.

"Can I ask you a favour?" the human asked while he fixed the panel to the wall.

"What can I do for you?" Soval asked back.

"Well, today are all sorts of try-outs for the kids, finding them some sports to engage in, but none of us has the time to run off."

"Of course I will accompany the children, Commander Tucker. The exercise might help dissipating some of their excess energy."

"That's one way to put it," the grey-haired parent of Commander Tucker said, passing with another box.

=/\=

"Just in time," Trip said and sat down on a large toolbox. "The last time I worked so hard for days was when the Xindi had shot our engines to friggin' hell."

"It sure was worth it," his father said. "Having your own little party basement is one thing, but this is something else. You sure had some money squirrelled away."

Trip snorted. "Man, I didn't need any money for close to fifteen years. With T'Pol's and my accounts we technically wouldn't need to work ever again. But then again, I'd probably go insane. It's only been three days and I'm already running out of things to fix."

"You'll manage," the elder Tucker said with a chuckle. "When's the boys coming?"

"Hm," Trip said and looked at his watch. "Five, four, three, two, one..."

"Evening, chaps!"

"May I introduce, dad. Malcolm Stuart Reed – most punctual human in the universe."

Charles jr laughed and shook the hand of the Brit.

"Nothing's burning," Malcolm said. "Where's the terrible duo?"

"Soval took them to the sports try-outs."

"Oh dear," Jon said, strolling into Trip's new basement. "Damn, Trip, you really outdid yourself."

"Looks nice, doesn'it," Trip grinned back.

"So, where did you park the Ladies?"

"V'Lar is the only one with a finished house, so that's where dinner is at this week," Trip said as more people entered the premises.

"Soval coming,too?" Jon asked.

"Well, if the kids don't maim him, I think he will," Trip said, while Shran started to fill glasses with Ale.

"Where's Kov?" Malcolm asked.

"In the dog house," Trip said with a chagrined face expression. "Sometimes Vulcans take things too literally."

"Care to enlighten us?" Jon demanded.

"Well, Anna came in proclaiming that she lost weight," Trip explained.

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Travis said.

"IT SPEAKS!"

Once the laughter had died down, Trip continued.

"Well yes, normally it would be a good thing, but... er... Kov offered to help her finding it again."

"That chap's a glutton for punishment, isn't he?" Malcolm said and downed his ale.

"Greetings," Soval said as he entered the basement.

"Soval!" the congregation cried out, prompting an eyebrow lift from Vulcan's venerable ambassador.

"How did ít go with the kids?" Trip asked and offered a glass of Ale to Soval, which he politely declined.

"Considering the potential hazard, I think events unfolded most fortuitously," Soval reported, eliciting snickers from the crowd.

"Do tell," Trip demanded, holding out his glass to Shran for a refill.

"First T'Mir tried out the Javelin throw. Unfortunately the device sailed past the projected landing zone and nearly impaled a long jumper."

"Ouch!" Malcolm said and took delivery of a refill.

"When she tried the long jump herself, we realized that the sand pit was actually too short for her," Soval continued.

"She wasn't injured, was she?" Trip asked, slightly worried.

"No." Soval replied. "But she was fairly inconsolable. Thankfully Henry was able to provide the consolation she needed."

Jon and Trip grinned at each other.

"Thank god they didn't try the hammer throw," Malcolm prattled.

"They did," Soval replied drily. "We should think about a way to rebuild their shed in which they store their equipment."

The group erupted in laughter.

"What about Henry?" Archer asked.

"He soon took to a sport called 'football'. Eleven players on each side quarrelled over a single ball, trying to kick the device into a net."

"Was he good at it?" Jon asked, accepting another refill.

"He managed twice to direct the ball into the net," Soval explained. "T'Mir was most pleased. It was finally decided that she should partake in the ritual as well. She proved most agile and adept at the practice."

"Did evvveryon survvvivve?" Malcolm prattled.

"All but an opposing player called 'a goalkeeper'," Soval said. "T'Mir struck a move called a 'penalty'. The unfortunate opponent was propelled into the net with the ball."

The group laughed again.

With a loud thud Malcolm's head hit the table.

"We should get him home," Shran proposed.

"I've got a wheelbarrow in the shed," Trip answered.


End file.
